


A Proper Incentive

by cardinalgirl75



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Naked Cardboard!Jaime, STOCKING STUFFER TIME!!!, The Author Regrets Nothing, Yes you read that right, apologies to anyone who works in Human Resources, seriously this story is nothing but crack, they will definitely cringe at the premise of this story, this is a story with a cardboard cutout of a naked Jaime, this is probably the craziest story I've ever written, with a nice dose of smut thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalgirl75/pseuds/cardinalgirl75
Summary: Jaime and Tyrion have eighteen months to get their struggling business out of the red.  Over a couple of bottles of wine, Tyrion comes up with a crazy idea that just might be the solution to their problems.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 41
Kudos: 143
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange Stocking Stuffers 2020





	A Proper Incentive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts), [TeaandBanjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/gifts), [dancinginthecenteroftheworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinginthecenteroftheworld/gifts), [justme (silver_spring)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_spring/gifts), [diesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diesis/gifts), [hillaryschu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillaryschu/gifts), [Aviss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/gifts), [tall_wolf_of_tarth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/gifts), [wildlingoftarth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlingoftarth/gifts).



> This idea started with someone receiving a life-sized cardboard cutout of NCW for Christmas, and several people throwing out ideas that involved a cutout of either Jaime or Brienne. It was hard to pick one and I tried to write for a couple different suggestions, but the minute I settled on this one, I couldn't stop writing. Seriously, I wrote this in two days, and I've never written this much in such a short amount of time.
> 
> I have tried to make this a gift to everyone who provided ideas and inspiration for this story, but there were a couple of people whose Ao3 identities I didn't know. If you were part of this discussion and I haven't included you here, I'm very sorry. Let me know and I'll add you, because this story wouldn't exist without everyone who was a part of it!!
> 
> This story is unbowed, unashamed, unbeta'd.

“How long do we have?” Jaime asks Tyrion grimly as he reviews the report they received an hour earlier.

Tyrion tosses the paper on his desk and rubs the bridge of his nose. “A year. Maybe eighteen months.” He sighs. “I’ll give Ms. Tarth credit. She was thorough and she didn’t sugarcoat things. We might’ve discovered this sooner if Baelish hadn’t—”

“There’s a lot of shit that might be different _if Baelish hadn’t,”_ Jaime mutters, setting his own copy of the report down and slouching on the couch in Tyrion’s office. “I don’t suppose the marvelous Ms. Tarth came up with an action plan for how we might save the company, did she? Just delivered her news and vanished without any ideas?”

Tyrion raises an eyebrow at his brother. “There’s no sense being angry with the messenger. We asked her to do this analysis and she did it. We didn’t ask her to save our sorry asses with ideas. That’s our job. Anyway, there’s one obvious way for us to save the company. We have to increase sales. The sooner the better.”

“But how? Trying to move luxury lingerie in _this_ economy is like trying to teach a dog Pentoshi.” Jaime feels a headache forming at his temples. Well, he can think of one cure for that, and Seven bless him, Tyrion’s got a full liquor cabinet. He gets up and walks over to said cabinet, grabs two glasses and a bottle of Tyrion’s best Arbor Gold, and pours them both drinks.

“If I didn’t know Father better, I’d say he deliberately gave us this company to make us look like fools,” Tyrion says as he accepts the glass from Jaime and drinks half the contents in one go. “Oh, wait. I _do_ know our father, and that’s _exactly_ what he wants.”

Jaime raises his glass in agreement and takes a healthy gulp of his own, barely tasting the contents.

Business has never been Jaime’s first love—that’s post-Second Long Night history. He’d wanted to become a college professor, but that had never been in the cards for him. Threatened with being cut off from the Lannister fortune, nineteen-year-old Jaime had caved and gotten his business degree, sublimating his love for history into the occasional historical reenactment of the Second Long Night, where he dutifully portrayed Goldenhand the Just (complete with the gold hand).

But even then, it hadn’t been enough. Frustrated with being under Tywin’s thumb and with a potential business pitch from his friends and fellow reenactors Daven and Addam ringing in his ears, he threatened to leave Lannister Industries for good. Tywin, furious that Jaime would dare to want to do something with his life that Tywin hadn’t planned to the minute, made him a deal: if Jaime could make a new acquisition successful, he would fund Jaime’s friends’ idea for a series of historical role-playing games, with Jaime in charge.

Flash forward two years, and here Jaime sits on his brother’s office couch, getting drunk and feeling like the worst sort of failure. Within a year, eighteen months if they’re lucky, he’ll slink back to his father’s office and resume his miserable life working as a cog in Tywin Lannister’s wheel, dating a Tywin-approved woman, living a Tywin-approved life.

“You know what our problem is?” Tyrion asks after his third glass of wine.

“We should’ve known that someone recommended by Father was going to fuck us over?” Jaime sloshes more wine into his glass. “Why did we trust Baelish again?”

“He was smart. He only mentioned Father in passing, and since Father’s got his fingers in every pie on the planet, it didn’t seem out of line that he’d know him.” Tyrion waddles over to sit beside Jaime on the couch. “But besides that. Our problem is that we don’t have proper incentive to make the staff push our product.”

Jaime frowns. “They have jobs in this economy. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“That’s Father talking. People are more likely to be enthusiastic about their job if they’re well-paid and if there’s a common goal.”

“We provide good wages and decent benefits. If we could get something going, we might even try to fit in a retirement plan thingy. What more do people want?”

Tyrion takes a drink. “The common goal. The ‘we’re all in this together’ feeling. The…the _motivation_ to get out there and make sure our lingerie is in stores, the enthusiasm to make sure that stores push our product to their customers.”

“Yeah.” Jaime sighs. “But even if we find proper motivation, it’s probably too late. We’re not likely to drive up sales enough that we’ll be able to save this place, given how little time we have left.”

“Yeah.”

Halfway through the second bottle of wine—a Dornish red this time, since Tyrion picks it and has just enough clarity not to want to go through both of his precious bottles of Arbor Gold—Tyrion comes up with the idea. Given the eagerness with which Tyrion runs with it, Jaime later suspects that his brother had had this idea in mind for a while and just waited for an opportunity to spring it on Jaime when he was drunk and unsuspecting, but he’s never able to prove it.

The conversation starts innocently enough.

“You remember that movie _Major League_?” Tyrion asks.

Jaime’s brain is decidedly foggy, but he thinks he remembers seeing it once. “Uh…baseball movie from the 80s, right?”

“Yeah. The owner of the team sets them up to lose. They find out about it and make a huge comeback.” Tyrion snickers. “Remember what the manager did to motivate them?”

Jaime takes a drink, then shakes his head. “Winning wasn’t enough?”

“I’m sure it was, but nope. He buys this cardboard cutout with the face of the bitch owner on it. She looks fully clothed, but every time the team wins a game, they peel off a section of the outfit until she’s completely naked except for a G-string.”

Jaime laughs. “Team full of guys? That would be damned good motivation. Too bad most of our sales reps are women.” He cocks his head. “Well, Asha Greyjoy might like it.”

“Yeah.” Tyrion sets his wine glass next to the Report of Doom and folds his hands over his stomach. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe we do it in reverse. We get a cutout of a naked man, cover him with a three-piece suit, and reveal a section every month we hit whatever goal we need. Say we let this go eighteen months—that’s the outside time frame if we make no changes at all. In eighteen months, we can get our sales up and bring this business from the brink of extinction.”

Jaime sits up and immediately regrets it, as the wine rushes to his head. He slumps down again. “It’s a good idea in theory, Tyrion, but what’s the likelihood that it’ll work in reality? Our proof is a movie and the knowledge that most men will do anything to see a naked woman, even if she’s just a cutout. Do you really think women would be interested in the same incentive?”

“Fuck, yeah! I mean, obviously we’ll have to have performance bonuses, but there’s something to be said for the thrill of the slow burn. Each month, if they make the goal, seeing a little more of some gorgeous, muscle-bound hunk, then a little more and a little more, until finally, they’re down to the last little piece before he’s there in all his glory…I think they’d love it. And then we’ll give the cutout to the person who brings up sales the most. It’s a genius idea!”

“Genius,” Jaime agrees, because five glasses of wine make any idea seem genius when presented with such enthusiasm. He empties his glass and sets it next to Tyrion’s, motioning him to pour him more wine. “Who are you going to get for the cutout? It should be someone famous, like…like Renly Baratheon, or maybe Khal Drogo. Ooh, the ladies would go wild for Khal.” Jaime raises a finger in the air. “But we’re forgetting the guys! Not all of them will be interested in seeing a naked man. Do we get them a naked woman in the interest of fairness?”

Tyrion pauses in the middle of refilling Jaime’s glass. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Jaime, but there are only four male sales reps. Two of them are gay, one of them is Jonos Bracken, who fucks everything with a pulse, and the other is our cousin Cleos, who we should reassign to another position since he’s the worst of the lot.”

“Why’d we hire him again?”

“Aunt Genna.” That’s all Tyrion needs to say, as their aunt is a force of nature neither one of them has ever figured out how to say no to.

“Mmm…okay, so this could work. Are we going with Renly or Khal?”

Tyrion hands Jaime his now-full glass. “Well…I have a thought, but it’s kind of crazy.”

Jaime’s eyebrows shoot up. “Like the rest of this idea isn’t crazy? Might as well go full-on insane.”

Tyrion nods. “Okay, then. While I think the ladies would appreciate someone like Renly or Khal Drogo, I think they’d appreciate seeing someone they know even more. Someone half of them are in love with and the rest of them lust after. Someone tall…and golden…and handsome and muscled and cocky enough to pull it off.”

Jaime thinks about this and nods. “Not a bad idea. You’re thinking of Lancel?”

Tyrion snickers. “Hardly. I’m thinking of you.”

Jaime spills his wine all over the front of his shirt and pants. “Fuck!” he shouts as he stands up, trying to wipe off what excess liquid there is on him. “Are you _insane,_ Tyrion?”

“Of course I am! I’m also desperate to save this company and keep us from being a laughingstock with Father!”

“So you’ll turn me into a laughingstock, is that it?”

Tyrion stands up, holding onto the arm of the couch for support. “Did you not hear me say that you’re the object of lust for every woman in this place? Think of how much harder they’ll work to end up with a life-sized naked cutout of you.”

“I think you’re overestimating my appeal.”

“Hardly, and you know it.” Tyrion takes two steps forward. “Think about this. If we get this company out of the red, you and your friends get your role-playing game business, and I get to keep going here. We both get away from Father. How much do you want that?”

“More than anything in the world,” Jaime says fervently.

“Exactly. Sometimes, the craziest, most insane idea is the one that works. And I think this one could work because it’s someone they know, someone who by doing this shows that we’re _really_ all in this together, and that he’s willing to do whatever it takes for the team to succeed. I’d do it myself but the only person who might be interested in seeing me naked is that cute girl who covers the Oldtown region.”

Jaime sits down heavily, thinking through his options. He still thinks they’d be better off hiring a male model, someone who isn’t shy about getting naked for a camera, but he understands the concept behind Tyrion’s idea.

And he’s just drunk enough to think it’s their best option.

“All right,” he grumbles. “But we should get started tonight before I change my mind, which I know I will when I wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover.”

~*~*~*~*~*

Brienne is horrified as she sits in the huge conference room with the twenty sales reps for Chataya’s Secret lingerie, staring at the life-size cutout of Jaime Lannister looking fifty different kinds of sexy in a blue three-piece suit, cocky smile in place. The life-size flesh-and-blood Jaime Lannister is dressed in an identical suit to the cutout, although he’s not smiling. In fact, the longer Tyrion’s announcement goes on about their plan to save the business, the more uncomfortable Jaime looks.

This is _not_ what she had in mind when she’d delivered her report to Tyrion a week ago. Although the Lannister brothers haven’t asked her for suggestions on how they can boost sales, she’s spent most of the past week researching ideas and finding niches in the current market that they can exploit to the fullest. And she’s put it together in a neat, tidy plan that she’d intended to present to them today.

Instead, they’ve called this meeting, complete with this asinine and possibly illegal game plan, and from the looks of the sales reps sitting in the room, every single one of them is salivating at the idea of getting to see Jaime Lannister naked.

 _They’re going to have to lock the cutout behind unbreakable glass to keep someone from peeling off all the sections immediately,_ she thinks sourly as Tyrion wraps up his presentation to loud applause.

It’s not that Brienne doesn’t get the appeal of Jaime Lannister, at least not the _outward_ appeal. He is the epitome of the Warrior made flesh, and although she’s never going to admit it, he’s appeared in more than one of her masturbatory fantasies.

Unfortunately, his personality is as appealing as the Stranger’s, which means that during those fantasies he keeps his mouth _shut._

“A couple more things, a couple more things!” Tyrion waves his hands in the air, but the buzz is too loud for anyone to hear. The excitement in the room is palpable, with most of the reps already talking about their plans to do whatever it takes to get Chataya’s into stores across the realm and beyond.

Someone whistles loudly, cutting across the excited chatter and bringing several conversations to a halt.

“Thank you, Jaime,” Tyrion says. “The cutout’s going into a secured location so that no one gets a sneak peek. No, Jaime will not go on a date with the person who increases sales the most. And finally, the most important thing of all—this has to remain a secret, which means what?”

Almost as if they’ve rehearsed this, everyone but Brienne (and, she notices, Jaime) says, “Don’t tell Stannis!”

Brienne rolls her eyes at the mention of Chataya’s Secrets’ head of Human Resources and she wonders where he is today. She wonders if anyone but her has stopped to consider that something you want to keep a secret from HR might be something that would land the company in hot water if it got out. And that if one wants to keep a secret, everyone else who knows about it should be dead.

The meeting mercifully ends. Brienne darts out of the overheated and overcrowded conference room and heads straight for her office, fanning herself as she does so. Then she thinks that someone might believe she was fanning herself for the wrong reason, so she puts her hand down.

Once alone in her office, Brienne puts her head in her hands and wonders if she’s been here long enough to start looking for another job. She’d wanted to leave within a few hours of her first meeting with Jaime eight months ago, when he’d gotten his first look at her. While he hadn’t come right out and mocked her looks, the disdain in his eyes said what he did not.

She’d cried in her office immediately after their meeting and called her father. Selwyn had convinced her to stick it out for at least a year before moving on.

_Dad never had to worry about the owners doing something that’s borderline illegal and definitely immoral._

Brienne sighs and thinks that she’s becoming old before her time. Why should she be bothered about the Lannisters using Jaime’s obvious appeal in an attempt to boost sales? Was she jealous of Jaime for being beautiful? Of the women for being open about their attraction to him when if she admits she finds him appealing, she’ll receive nothing but scorn?

Of the fact that she’s in accounting, which means she won’t have the opportunity to win the life-sized cardboard cutout of what eventually will be a naked Jaime?

Before she thinks about the implications of _that,_ someone knocks at her door. She straightens in her chair and says, “Come in.”

The door opens and—

“What the hells?” she exclaims as the life-sized cardboard cutout of a currently fully clothed Jaime walks into her office. She stands up and sees that Tyrion’s the one lugging it in here. “Tyrion—”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Tarth, but I really couldn’t think of a better place to put it,” Tyrion says as he walks it over to the corner of her office across from her desk. He sets it down and brushes his hands as though the cutout was especially dusty. “We can’t leave it in public areas of the office—either Jaime will be completely naked within ten minutes or Stannis will return and see it. And there isn’t anyone else in this office I can trust not to do anything nefarious with it, other than you.”

_That’s me. Trustworthy Brienne._

“Great, so now I’ll have the sales reps coming to bitch me out about their expense accounts personally rather than over email,” Brienne grumbles before she remembers that Tyrion is her boss, and therefore she shouldn’t be grumbling like this to him.

Tyrion laughs. “I’ll see about getting you a cabinet or something you can hide him in.”

Brienne looks around her little office, then at Tyrion. There’s no way a cabinet big enough to hide Jaime in will fit in here. Tyrion’s almost out her door when she remembers that she needs to give him the market analysis report.

“I know this isn’t my area,” she admits as she holds out the folder she put her report in, “but sometimes I notice things that other people don’t. These ideas may be complete junk, but if they can help in any way…”

Tyrion takes the folder from her with a wide smile. “Thank you. We’ll be sure to look it over and see what we can do.” He pauses in the doorway. “Brienne, if we’re able to save this company, you’re looking at a huge raise for everything you’ve done. I know that you’ve had some rocky moments with Jaime, but we really do appreciate you.”

Brienne has her doubts about Jaime’s appreciation for her, but she nods and blinks several times. “Thank you,” she says in a low voice.

And then she’s alone with fully clothed, smirking cardboard cutout Jaime. He has a gleam in his eyes that radiates pure sex, as if he knows she wants him and he’s daring her to do something about it.

_There is no way in the seven hells I’m going to be able to get any work done in here with him staring at me like that._

Brienne gets up and walks the short distance to the cutout. She turns him to face the wall and returns to work, wondering if this plan of Tyrion and Jaime’s has any chance at all of succeeding. She tells herself that it doesn’t matter, because she won’t be around to find out, anyway, but still…

~*~*~*~*~*

Jaime’s not a religious person. His mother tried to instill some religious principles in him as a child, but she died when he was young, and his father worships the dual gods of money and power rather than the Seven. However, as seven months pass and sales improve—a little slow at first, but by the third month they’re exceeding projections by a wide margin—it really seems like the combination of ideas provided by Brienne Tarth (of all people) and the prospect of everyone getting to see him naked is working.

Jaime had a lot of regrets the first few days after Tyrion’s announcement to the sales reps, but as time has passed, he’s gotten into the swing of things. When Hildy, one of the top sales reps from the Riverlands, winks at him whenever she’s in the office, he winks back. When Jon Connington, one of the older reps who works around the Dragonstone area, smiles warmly at him, Jaime does the same.

And every month, he makes sure to send Stannis on some wild goose chase to keep him out of the office for the sales rep meeting, which comes complete with the peeling off of another section of the cardboard cutout. The greatest miracle in this whole thing isn’t so much that their sales are getting better, but that Stannis hasn’t found out about the incentive. It helps that he and Tyrion transferred Cleos, the only person who might’ve told him if he knew, to Stannis’s department. (When Stannis complained because Cleos had no experience in HR, they sicced Aunt Genna on him. Stannis still gives them evil looks about that.)

The best thing is that morale seems so much higher—in the office, out in the field, and even from the buyers for some of the biggest names in retail when they call to talk to him or Tyrion. People like to come to the office. They gather at the water cooler to talk about the latest office gossip, sports, or the latest episode of _The Voice._ He sees groups of people go off to lunch together and head out on Friday nights for drinks. He and Tyrion have joined them occasionally, and Jaime feels that he fits in with them. When he comments on this to Tyrion, his brother laughs and says, “If I’d known that all it would take is a cardboard cutout of you, I’d have suggested it long ago.”

The only small fly in the ointment of this wave of success is the annoying woman that heads up the accounting department and sits in on the sales rep meetings with a judgmental look on her face. She never speaks up during these meetings. She just brings in the cardboard cutout and takes it back to wherever they’re keeping it hidden afterward. (Jaime’s asked several times where it’s at. Tyrion laughs at him every time and refuses to tell him.)

Brienne Tarth is an outlier in the sea of happiness that Chataya’s Secret has become. When her co-workers go out for lunches and drinks, she stays in and eats the sack lunch she brings every day. He never sees her with any group, although there’s one kid, Podrick something, who sometimes sits with her in the staff lounge and talks with her. And Jaime knows for a fact that she’s looking for another job because he saw her resume on a couple of websites. Not that he was deliberately seeking out information on her or anything, but she is a valuable employee. If she’s looking elsewhere, then perhaps they need to do something to keep her here. He mentions this to Tyrion, and a week later, Jaime fields a frustrated phone call from Stannis, who wants to know why they’re authorizing a five thousand dragon raise for an accountant who isn’t anything outstanding.

“You’re blind as a bat,” Jaime snaps. “Yours is not to question why, Stanny, it’s to process the paperwork.”

Which maybe he shouldn’t say, but dammit, Stannis drives him insane and he has no right to insult Brienne like that.

Jaime isn’t sure what it is about Brienne Tarth that he can’t get out of his head. She’s not attractive in any sense of the word, except her eyes, which are large and blue and sometimes dominate her face when she’s surprised or upset about something. She’s taller than him and is probably about as strong as he. She has absolutely no fashion sense. He bets that she doesn’t even use the employee discount to buy decent underwear. Not that he’s got any legitimate reason to think about her underwear. Or that he thinks about her underwear often.

Or thinks about her out of her underwear.

It’s silly to think so much about Brienne because she clearly doesn’t think much of him. There’s a hint of disdain in her eyes every time she looks at him. Whenever Jaime and Tyrion have a reason to speak with her, she always addresses Tyrion except for when Jaime asks her a direct question. He’s obviously done something to piss her off, though the gods only know what, and he shouldn’t care enough to be bothered by that because he always seems to be doing something to piss people off.

But somehow, with Brienne Tarth…he cares.

~*~*~*~*~*

It’s been a year since that blasted sales rep meeting, and even though Brienne tells herself that she’s going to apply for one of those jobs she saw on Monster and Indeed any day now, somehow she…doesn’t. She tells herself that she’d be a fool if she did. Four months into this endeavor, Tyrion calls her to his office and tells her that she’s getting a raise of five thousand dragons a year. While she’s not sure what the look on his face means when he tells her—he seems as if he’s trying to figure something out about her—his words about rewarding her hard work and dedication are sincere, and five thousand dragons are nothing to sneer at.

And hard though it is to believe, things are much happier than they were before. At first, Brienne feels a pang when her co-workers go to lunch or out for drinks after work, because part of her wants to join them. She knows she isn’t being left out due to malice but rather because most people tend to overlook her (except the sales reps, who she wishes would overlook her). She supposes she could invite herself along, but she’s never been comfortable doing something like that.

Then one day, one of the younger staff members from marketing sees her in the staff lounge eating and asks to join her. Brienne manages not to say something sarcastic about this being public space and he can sit where he wants, and he joins her. Podrick Payne looks to be about twelve despite the fact that she knows he’s been here almost a year, and Brienne quickly figures out that he’s very shy. It’s this last part that melts her reserve, and an odd sort of friendship forms between them. So she tells herself that she can’t leave Chataya’s, because if she did, who would Podrick eat lunch with?

And…gods, she can’t believe she’s admitting this to herself, but there’s a small part of her that wants to know how long the whole cardboard cutout thing can go before someone finally clues Stannis in. She thought the excitement about the cardboard cutout would die down within a few weeks, but the monthly sales rep meetings keep things lively. Hardly a day goes by when she doesn’t hear someone suggest what part of Jaime’s suit to rip off next. To her surprise, most people don’t suggest going straight for the part they all want to see. There’s something to be said for the element of anticipation, because usually the talk is of tearing off a piece covering one of his biceps or his thigh. Brienne’s grateful for being invisible to people when she overhears those conversations, because she has a terrible tendency to blush and knows from the rush of heat to her face that it happens often when Jaime’s cutout is mentioned.

Despite her feelings about the cutout—both positive and negative—she refuses to look at it except at the monthly sales rep meetings. She refuses to think about it except on those days. Even then, she only allows herself to look at it for no longer than it takes for Tyrion to ask the person with the highest monthly sales to choose the piece to tear off. Each month, she tucks cardboard Jaime under her arm, lugs him to the meeting, and returns him to her office when they’re done.

If only she could put the damned thing out of her mind as easy. Sad to say, it’s all she can think about once the meetings are over, her mind enacting a fantasy where a real-life Jaime slowly peels the blue suit from his body and then he’s there before her…

Thank gods the sales meetings are held last thing on Fridays, so she can go directly home.

The weekend after Tyrion sticks her with the cutout, she buys a black tablecloth to put over it so although she knows it’s there, she doesn’t have to see it. She’s still surprised that no one’s broken into her office or that she doesn’t get more visits from the sales reps than she does, because surely, it’s obvious that the cutout is kept in her office. Why else would she always have possession of it to start and end meetings? But like everything else about her, no one really notices, and no one asks her what’s underneath the tablecloth, and Brienne’s life at Chataya’s goes on.

~*~*~*~*~*

In the final weeks leading up to the big reveal, Jaime finds that he can’t quite believe it’s happened. They could have stopped this whole thing four months ago, according to the reports he gets from Brienne’s team. Chataya’s has been written about in major magazines and hit it big when the sultry, sexy Ellaria Sand was asked a question about her favorite types of lingerie. Chataya’s sold out of the line she specified within hours and now it’s on backorder.

Two months ago, Jaime went to Tywin with their current sales figures and everything he, Daven, and Addam had been cooking up. Jaime hadn’t thought it possible his father’s lips could be any thinner, but seeing the success his sons had made of one business, and the prospectus Jaime presented for his new company had managed the impossible.

Jaime gives his father credit because Tywin didn’t deny him what he’d promised. Jaime’s company will have whatever it needs to get started, from their new offices in the Darkstar Building (not too far away from Chataya’s Secret) to capital and expertise as needed.

“I suppose you’ll be getting hands-on experience about building a business from the ground up, if nothing else,” Tywin had said as he’d promised to send over the legal documents (which had arrived two days later). “It should serve you well later on.”

And now it’s the night before his final sales meeting. Jaime’s doing a final walkthrough of the office, thinking about how much he’s going to miss this place when he’s gone. Not enough to change his mind about leaving, but enough that he definitely plans to come visit at least once a week.

Jaime notices a sliver of light spilling into the darkness of one hallway and heads for it. He isn’t sure who’s still here—he’d thought he was alone—but he’s going to encourage them to head home because tomorrow’s going to be chaotic. Then again, perhaps that’s why the person at the end of the hallway is still here.

As Jaime gets closer to that office, he gets the feeling that he knows who he’s going to find in there. It’s too dark in the hallway to read the plaque on the door but when he taps twice and nudges it open, he sees her there.

 _Her._ Brienne Tarth, wearing yet another of her boring yet sensible business suits. At least this one is blue, a color that looks nice on her. She stares at her computer screen with a small frown, clicks on something with her mouse, then types something out quickly. Whatever she’s done eases the frown.

Jaime realizes she didn’t hear him knock. “Hello,” he says softly, hoping not to scare her.

Brienne gives a small start and looks over at him. “Oh! Uh, hello, Jaime. I didn’t think anyone else was here.”

“We’re the last two,” Jaime says. “What are you still doing here?”

“Finishing up the last of the expense reports,” she says as she clicks something, then reaches out to turn off her computer screen. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to concentrate tomorrow with all the…” She waves her hand. “Stuff.”

“Yeah, the stuff.” Jaime looks around her office with a small frown. Why hasn’t Tyrion gotten her a better office? For that matter, why hasn’t _he_ thought to do it? He notices something draped in a familiar black tablecloth in one corner and lets out a laugh. “I’ll be damned. It was in here the whole time.”

“What?” Brienne notices what he’s looking at. “Oh, that. Where did you think I kept it?”

“I didn’t realize _you_ kept it at all. I figured Tyrion had it hidden in a closet somewhere, and since you’re the tallest employee in the company, it would be easiest for you to get it and bring it to the meetings.” Jaime walks over to it and raises the tablecloth a bit. “Imagine how jealous all the other women in this company would be if they knew you got to look at it every day.”

Brienne scoffs. “Yeah. Sure. Jealous and mocking. ‘Ooh, we’re so jealous that Brienne has to put up with naked cardboard Jaime. I’ll bet she does nothing but lock herself in her office and masturbate while looking at it all day. Poor thing, it’s the closest she’ll ever get to him.’ Just what I need.”

Jaime hears something in her voice that tugs at his heart. “I doubt that’s what they’d say.”

“They’ve already said it. I hear them when I bring it to the meetings, although they think I spend my time in the closet rather than locked in my office since somehow, despite them being in here from time to time, they’ve never really noticed it.” Brienne rises from her desk. “Too busy trying to explain why I should reimburse them for their weekends at a casino in Lannisport or the free round they bought for an entire bar of drunks.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…it’s my job to be the bitch who won’t pay all their bills. It’s just hard sometimes, you know?”

“Well, I’ve been the asshole who’s had to fire people, so I do understand.”

She tilts her head, then nods. “Yeah, you would.”

“We should have a good bitch session sometime. I’ll tell you the worst reaction I got from someone being fired, and you can tell me about the most ridiculous expense someone tried to claim.”

Brienne chuckles, but the sound isn’t mirthful. “Sure.”

Jaime frowns. “Why not? You think I’m kidding? Tell you what—I’ll run to my brother’s office, grab a bottle of wine, and we can talk now.” He realizes that he’s being awfully presumptuous. “Unless you already have plans, in which case we’ll try again sometime.”

She looks puzzled. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah! Hang tight, I’ll get the wine.”

Jaime walks back down the hall, across the main area of the office, and down another hall to Tyrion’s office, which is directly across from his own. He uses the master key to unlock the door and heads over to the liquor cabinet. He finds the usual bottle of Dornish red, bringing it with two glasses back to Brienne’s office.

She’s got her purse slung over her shoulder but at the sight of Jaime with the promised drinks, she hesitantly returns it to her lower desk drawer.

Jaime pours them each a glass, sits in a rickety chair across from her, and says, “One time, I had a guy tell me to go fuck myself with a golden hand when I fired him. I guess he’d heard about my weekend hobby.”

Brienne sips her wine. “What’s your hobby?”

Jaime tells her about reenactment. She surprises him by telling him that she’s also a fan of the history of the Second Long Night and shyly admits that she’s descended from the famed Blue Knight.

“A few months ago,” Brienne says when Jaime prompts her to tell a ridiculous expense story, “Jonos Bracken insisted that the high-class prostitute—I’m sorry the ‘personal escort’—he hired should be a reimbursable expense because she ‘enhanced his image with the potential buyer.’ After I finished laughing, I told him that there was no way the company was going to pay for him to get laid and if he had a problem with that, he could take it up with Stannis.”

“Good thing you didn’t tell him to take it up with Tyrion. He’d have paid the bill,” Jaime says.

“I know.”

There’s a short pause, and then both of them chuckle.

They spend much of the next hour trading stories. Neither of them really drinks much of the wine, although Jaime supposes they’ve had enough to set aside the initial awkwardness.

“Brienne, why didn’t you think that I was serious about wanting to have a drink and talk with you?” Jaime asks.

Brienne bites her lower lip and fiddles with her half-full wineglass. “Here’s the thing,” she finally says, setting the glass down. “When everyone says the closest I’ll ever get to you is tucking your cardboard cutout under my arm, they’re not wrong. Are they?”

“We’re fairly close right now,” Jaime says, and then he stops to think about what she’s just said. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that you would like to be closer to me?”

“What? No, what made you think…I…I didn’t say that, I didn’t mean…” But a telltale blush creeps onto her face. Jaime’s noticed in the past eighteen months that Brienne doesn’t have a poker face. The look she has now is similar to how she looks every time they peel another section of the suit from the cardboard cutout.

“I think you did mean it.” Jaime sets his wineglass on the edge of her desk.

Brienne blinks several times. “Is that what this whole thing’s been about? Throwing the ugly girl a bone, boosting her confidence by telling her that while she can’t have you, she can have any man she wants? It’s a lie.”

“No,” Jaime says softly. “No, I think maybe this whole thing has been my way of admitting that I want to be closer to you, too.”

Brienne’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “What? You don’t like me. You don’t like the way I look, I know that.”

“I’ve never said I don’t like the way you look. Do I like the way you dress? No. You dress like you hate your body. But I like the way you look.” Jaime runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you look. I think about how far down your blush goes. And if you have freckles everywhere. And whether your lips are as soft as they look.”

Her breath hitches and she stands up suddenly. “I think maybe I should go,” she says. “Before…before you do something you might regret.”

“Or maybe you think you should go before you do something _you_ regret?” Jaime stands up as well, noting as he does so that she’s not that much taller than him, which means she’s not wearing heels today. He places his hands on her desk and leans in. “Trust me…I know I won’t regret anything if you stay.”

Brienne’s eyes are on his as she slowly makes her way around the desk, never leaving his. He sees the uncertainty warring with desire, fear warring with want. She licks her lips and Jaime’s never been so envious of a tongue in his life, but then he realizes that she’s coming around the desk, so he won’t be envious for long.

When she stands there nervously, Jaime waits for her to do something and then figures out that she’s waiting for _him_ to do something. To be fair, she has made a move here and he should reciprocate.

So he does. He has to lean up a bit to meet her mouth, but then he’s falling into a whirlpool of sensations. Yes, her lips are that soft, soft and pliant against his own, hesitant and curious at the same time. He strokes his thumb along her jaw and she gasps, her mouth opening enough for his tongue to slide inside and find hers. Brienne makes this little sound that Jaime’s going to hear in his dreams for _years,_ and he decides he wants to hear it again. He deepens the kiss, his hands threading through her straw-colored hair.

When her hands go to either side of his waist and pull him closer, Jaime somehow gets her so her back is to the desk. He grabs her ass— _gods, she’s all muscle, how hot is that_ —and hoists her onto it with little effort. She pulls away in surprise, but he gives her a cocky smile and murmurs, “I got you, don’t worry” before he kisses her again. He runs his hands up her legs, feeling nylon. Of all things, that gives him pause, and that gives him three seconds to think when there’s still a bit of blood operating in his brain. 

“We can’t do this.” Jaime steps back, breathing heavily.

“Oh gods, why?” she groans.

“Because I’m your boss. This is wrong. Stannis would have my head if he could see me now, and he would be right. I’ve never made a move on an employee and…and I don’t want you thinking that you would have to…”

Brienne nods. “Okay. Fine. I quit, effective immediately. That should solve the problem.”

Jaime knows he shouldn’t accept her resignation, knows she’ll regret this as soon as they’re done here, but he wants her too much and anyway, she grasps him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulls him back to her, any protest drowned out by the driving need surging through him as they kiss passionately.

Jaime rucks up her skirt—thank the gods, she’s wearing a skirt—and to his shock, she’s not wearing pantyhose but thigh-high stockings. Jaime quickly peels them from her legs and  
looks down at the expanse of pale skin dotted with freckles that’s revealed. Her panties are made of a light blue silky material that he thinks is…

“You’re wearing Chataya’s Secret,” he says with a grin.

“Well, it wouldn’t be right of me to wear something from a competitor,” she replies with a crooked smile of her own. “Besides, you guys gave us a discount and…”

“Best damned idea Tyrion ever had.” Jaime drops to his knees, his hands grasping the waistband of her panties and pulling them down her legs and off. Jaime experiences a savage satisfaction when he sees that she’s already wet.

His fingertips travel over her skin. He hears her breath hitch as he nears the juncture between her thighs, his thumbs parting her folds, opening her to his gaze. Another time, he’ll go slow and worship her the way she deserves to be worshipped, but today he dives in, burying his tongue in her, reveling in the musky, slightly bitter taste, relishing every delicious gasp and stifled moan he hears above him. He maps her out with his tongue and then his fingers, his tongue working feverishly on her clit as first one, then two fingers thrust into her. Her cries get louder and louder until finally, when he curls his fingers inside her, she shrieks as she comes. Jaime stills, his fingers still inside her, as she rides out the last of her orgasm, and then she’s trembling.

Jaime withdraws his fingers and rises from his knees. She wraps her arms around him as he kisses her. When they break apart, he smiles. “So you liked that?” he asks.

She bats his shoulder weakly but says nothing, and although the look in her eyes promises that she’ll say something sarcastic later when her brain is capable of speech, her face is dazed and dreamy.

Jaime places gentle kisses on her lips then moves to the sensitive area under her ears, which produces a small shiver. He feels her right hand slip from his shoulder to glide along his still-clad torso, moving farther down until she cups his neglected cock through his pants, and Jaime freezes, praying to every god he can think of that he doesn’t embarrassing himself by coming right now.

“Do you have anything?” she whispers.

“Anything…oh! Condom.” And _fuck,_ he doesn’t. Jaime’s not a monk, but he’s definitely not into casual sex, so he’s not prepared. “Fuck, fuck…” Jaime tries to think of who in the office might be the kind of genius who would keep a stash of condoms in his desk for just these occasions, and his mind instantly clicks to one such person. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

She nods and he runs back to Tyrion’s office. Once inside, he rummages through the desk drawers, finding nothing.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he mumbles. There is _no way_ Tyrion doesn’t have a condom stash _somewhere_ in here, for gods’ sake. Tyrion’s got enough supplies to survive a nuclear war, and that has to include condoms. Jaime looks in the barrister’s bookcase and finds nothing. Nothing in the bathroom.

Nothing.

Jaime sighs and opens up the liquor cabinet, because he’s going to need a stiff drink to make up for the fact that he’s not going to get inside Brienne tonight. He grabs for a bottle of what is no doubt expensive Braavosi whiskey and then remembers there’s a hidden compartment in the liquor cabinet. Jaime’s fingertips feel along the ledge for the small button, almost too small to be perceived, but he’s determined. He brushes against it and presses, and the compartment springs open.

He thanks every god he can think of as he grabs one of the condoms in the compartment. He doesn’t think to put the cabinet or anything else he’s messed with back to rights. Hells, he barely remembers to shut the door behind him because he’s in such a hurry to get back to Brienne. Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if she’s reconsidered this whole thing and left, given how long it’s taken him to get back to her.

But to his relief and delight, not only is Brienne still perched on her desk, but she’s also now completely naked.

“And I used to think there were no such things as the gods,” he breathes as he tosses the condom at her. She catches it deftly and sets it beside her.

Jaime reaches for the buttons of his shirt and begins pulling at them with no thought as to whether or not they’ll remain attached to the garment. At the same time, he toes off his shoes and kicks them out of the way.

“Wait,” she says.

His fingers still and he almost stops breathing.

“Go slow.” She blushes slightly. “That’s what I…I want you to do. Go slow.”

Jaime knows right away what she didn’t say, and his lips curve into a smile. “Dreamed about this moment, have you?” His smile grows as her blush deepens. “So have I. I’ve dreamed of you just like this, looking like a naked goddess.” He undoes one button, then another. “Although you were on my desk and not yours.” Another, and another. “I’ve dreamed of peeling off your underwear and going down on you for hours.” Her breath hitches and her thighs press together. His fingers undo the last two buttons of his shirt and then shrugs out of it as slowly as possible without looking ridiculous.

“I’ve dreamed of seeing your lips wrapped around my cock.” Jaime undoes his belt with more calm than he feels inside, then reaches for the button of his pants. “I’ve dreamed of fucking you on the desk.” Button undone, now for the zipper. “I’ve dreamed of fucking you in my car.” He slowly slides the zipper down. “I’ve dreamed of pressing you against the wall of the elevator of my apartment building, pulling up your skirt, and sliding inside you.” He draws the pants down his legs and off, making sure to take the socks with them, and then he’s standing there in his black boxer briefs. “I’ve dreamed of you riding my face in bed and then fucking me into the mattress.”

When he reaches for the waistband of his underwear, Brienne gasps, “Stop!” She lunges off the desk and kisses him fiercely. She grabs at his boxer briefs and yanks them down. “Fuck me. Fuck me _now.”_

Jaime walks her back to the desk, which she hops onto while he steps out of his underwear and kicks them away. He grabs the condom beside her, tears open the foil, and…

“Fucking Tyrion,” he groans as he sees the gold-colored condom inside. “Why can’t this family be normal?”

“What?” Brienne looks down and sees what Jaime holds in his hand. Her eyes go wide in disbelief. She clamps a hand over her mouth but can’t contain the hoot of laughter. Her shoulders shake and shake and then she laughs, loud and heartily, and even though Jaime’s going to kill his little brother later (right after he hugs him for being the brilliant sort who has condoms at the office), Jaime laughs, too.

“Right,” he says. “So, is this completely off-putting or…”

She shakes her head. “As long as it works, I don’t care, but…” Brienne dissolves into giggles again. Jaime takes advantage of her distraction to roll the condom onto his cock, which thankfully has not let him down.

Jaime captures her mouth again, turning her laughter into deep, languorous kisses that become heated quickly. He nudges her thighs apart and runs his right hand through the tangle of curls covering her cunt, feeling the wet heat within. His fingers brush against her clit and she gasps, her hands tightening on his shoulders. Jaime grabs hold of his cock, positions himself, and slides into her with a long, drawn-out sigh.

It’s better than any of his dreams. She’s warm and tight around his cock, and her legs lock around his waist as he withdraws slightly and thrusts back in, starting a slow, steady pace in spite of every molecule of his body screaming to let go and plunder her body. He wants to savor everything about this moment in case it never happens again. He wants Brienne to know with every kiss, with every thrust, with everything, that he wants her, because he does. He has for a long time.

“Gods, Jaime,” she moans as her fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Gods…”

“Brienne,” he murmurs against her neck as his hips move faster. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted…”

“I do.” She gasps when he does something…gods, he should figure out what that was and do that again because he wants to hear that sound over and over. “Believe me, I do—oh _gods!”_ Her hips buck against him, her arms dropping from his shoulders as she falls back on the desk, her chest heaving with the force of her breaths. Jaime follows her down, the sight of her pert little breasts with hardened pink nipples too much to resist. He takes the right one in his mouth as his fingers run along the left, and she cries out. “Please, Jaime, _please!”_

Jaime is all for pleasing her. He increases the speed of his thrusts as he moves to lathe attention on her other breast. Her arms fist in her hair as she goes incoherent, her pleas now nothing but a series of “oh oh ohs,” and Jaime knows her orgasm is close, feels it as the walls of her cunt tighten around him, and he knows that he won’t last much longer than she. His thumb flicks at her clit once, twice, and then she screams and she’s there, and Jaime’s just trying to hang on, last just a few seconds longer, and then he lets out a loud groan as he comes, remembering at the last second to brace himself on his forearms so he doesn’t crush her completely. He buries his face in the crook of her neck.

A minute later, Jaime remembers that he needs to take care of the condom. He withdraws from her with a small regretful sound, tries not to chuckle again at the flash of gold latex covering his cock, and finds the trash can underneath her desk. Then, satisfied that he doesn’t need to move a muscle for at least ten minutes, he drapes himself over her again, and they lay on the desk, catching their breath and allowing their bodies to cool. Her fingers dance across his back and run gently up and down his spine, lightly caressing his ass on each pass. He nibbles playfully at her neck and feels her smiling even if he can’t see it.

“I regret to inform you, Ms. Tarth, that your resignation will not be accepted. Chataya’s can’t lose one of its best employees, the secret behind its success, the…” He feels her still beneath him and realizes how she might be taking this. He raises himself up enough to look at her. “You can’t leave because I’m leaving.”

She looks at him in confusion. “You’re what?”

Jaime pulls away, taking her by the hands and raising her to a sitting position on the desk. He doesn’t let go of her hands. “I’m leaving Chataya’s Secret. We’re announcing my resignation tomorrow at the party.”

“But…but why?” The flush on her face confuses him.

“I’m going into business with a couple friends of mine. We’re starting up a role-playing video game company. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but my father wouldn’t bankroll me unless I proved to him that I could run a business and make it successful.” He frowned. “We nearly didn’t because my father tried to sabotage the company, but then Tyrion came up with the crazy idea for the cardboard cutout and you did the research to find what we needed to do. And now we’re the number three lingerie company in Westeros and making inroads in Essos. He can’t deny that we’ve made a success of things. And with Tyrion staying behind, things will only get better.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. This means that I’ll be gone, you can continue working here, and we can…” He hesitates. He’d talked about all the things he wanted to do with her, but what if she just wanted a one-night stand? What if this was the fulfillment of some fantasy she had about fucking her boss and then moving on? What if…

“I guess it’s a good thing that I didn’t put anything in writing,” she says, putting her arms around his waist, her hands running up and down his spine again.

He relaxes instantly and cups her face with his hands, leaning in to kiss her softly. “Guess so.”

She makes a contented sound and says, “That was amazing.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It was every dream I’ve ever had of you with your legs up over my shoulders come to life.”

Her hand stills. “My legs weren’t over your shoulders.”

 _“Yet.”_ He grins. “Want me to go grab another condom from Tyrion’s office so we can make that happen?”

“Will it be gold again?”

He snickers. “I won’t be surprised if it is. We managed all right the first time, didn’t we?”

She laughs and nods, so he pulls out of her arms to scamper back to his brother’s office again to get a handful of condoms.

~*~*~*~*~*

The next day, the sales reps show up three hours before the scheduled meeting, decorations in hand. They transform the drab main office into party central complete with streamers, celebratory banners, balloons, a sound system, the promise of food and drink, and even a disco ball. The hour before the meeting, the workers who occupy the main office start moving their desks along the wall to create enough space for a dance floor.

No one makes any pretense of working today. Not even the head accountant, who some notice walks around with a dreamy look in her eyes and a slightly odd walk, as though she’s hurt one of her legs. (Brienne makes a note to herself to get back to yoga classes if Jaime’s going to be so creative in bed…and on desks.) Everyone knows what’s to come today—well, everyone except Stannis in HR, who’s been shuffled off to a day-long conference at Storm’s End.

Half an hour before the beginning of the meeting, Jaime carries a large pad of paper on an easel into the room. They know it’s the sales numbers. The cover is flipped to keep whatever’s underneath from being seen, but the wide smile on his face lets everyone know that it’s something good. (And they’re right, but Jaime’s not smiling because of that.)

At exactly four o’clock, everyone is in the main office and Tyrion is at the makeshift podium, Jaime to one side, his gaze firmly fixed on Brienne. She hopes that no one notices because she knows she’s blushing at the heat in his eyes.

Everyone applauds over and over as Tyrion shows them the sales numbers, which have exceeded projections yet again. “I know it’s a cliché to say that we couldn’t have done it without every single person in here, but it’s the truth,” Tyrion says with a small catch in his voice. “All of you have gone above and beyond to bring us from the edge, and I hope you’ll know how much Jaime and I appreciate everything you’ve done. If you have any doubts, your next paycheck should alleviate them.”

There’s a mixture of laughter and applause.

“Before we get to the main event, which will be followed by the party, I have an announcement.” He glances at Jaime. “My brother will be stepping down from his position here at Chataya’s Secret, effective at the end of the month.” A loud groan goes up at the news and Tyrion pauses to let them settle down. “I know, I know. We definitely wouldn’t be here today without him. But his heart’s been set on a different dream for a long time, and I’m grateful that we had him here as long as we did. We’re gonna miss you, Jaime.”

“You make it sound like I’m being sent to the blackest of the Black Cells. I’ll just be down the road in the Darkstar Building,” Jaime says, his voice belying the lightness of his words. “And you’ll still be stuck with me at family dinners.”

“Damn, I was hoping to get out of those,” Tyrion grumbles. He clears his throat. “All right, so I know the question that’s on everyone’s mind has to be answered. Who among you was our top sales getter overall, and therefore gets the honor of tearing off the last piece of Jaime’s suit and claiming the cutout for their very own? Jaime, if you would do the honors of bringing out the prize?”

Jaime disappears down the hall to Brienne’s office. He’s gone for about thirty seconds when Tyrion gets a wicked grin on his face and calls out, “All right--hit the music!”

A chorus of hoots and excited chatter fills the air as the person manning the DJ station starts playing some instrumental theme that Brienne vaguely recognizes from some dim recess of her memory, from back when she was a little girl staying up late on Saturday nights to watch wrestling shows with her brother Galladon—yes, that was it, the guy who liked to think himself the gods’ gift to all women. She chuckles as Jaime reappears with the cutout covered in the black tablecloth, gyrating his hips in time to the music and sending the women into ecstasy.

Several people, upon recognizing said tablecloth, look Brienne’s way and more than one person exclaims, “It was in _your_ office the whole time?” But it doesn’t bother her, not today. Not anymore.

Jaime removes the tablecloth with a flourish and looks at his cardboard counterpart as the music is turned down. “Tyrion, did you make sure that this was completely true to life?” he asks, pretending to look nervous.

“Why? Were you hoping I’d ask them to give you a giant—” Catcalls drown out Tyrion’s teasing remarks.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to make it smaller, and I don’t want to anyone to get the wrong idea about me.”

Brienne feels something warm curl up inside her, deep in her core, and thinks about how amazing the true to life version of Jaime’s cock is.

“Don’t worry, brother. Shae promised me that you wouldn’t be disappointed. Now, back to business. The person who increased the sales in their region the most is…drum roll please…” The DJ obliges. “…Hildy!”

Brienne grimaces and holds her ear, because of course Hildy’s right next to her, shrieking in delight. She races up to the front of the room heedless of everyone in her way.

“I can’t believe it!” she cries out as she throws her arms around Jaime—the real version. “I knew I was doing well, but to get the overall sales award is just…oh, thank you!” She hugs Jaime again and runs a hand down his front until she gets hold of his cock. Jaime stiffens and takes a step back.

“Uh, Hildy, the prize is the cardboard cutout, not Jaime himself,” Tyrion reminds her gently. Brienne manages a laugh along with everyone else, but vows she’s going to rip every bleached blonde hair off Hildy’s head when she gets her hands on her.

Hildy smiles lasciviously and smooths down her skirt. “Right. Sorry. Well, maybe later?” She winks at Jaime and wiggles over to the cardboard cutout, completely nude except for the strip of suit covering his groin. “All right, ladies and gents! Be prepared to feast your eyes on this for exactly five seconds before I hide it away and keep it for myself! Hit the music!”

The instrumental music starts again as Hildy grabs the end of the last section and slowly begins peeling it away.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELLS IS GOING ON HERE?”

The music comes to a sudden halt. Hildy, in a fit of nerves, strips away the last of the section and there’s cardboard cutout Jaime in all his naked glory, but no one notices. Everyone turns and stares at the corner of the room where the owner of the outraged voice stands, eyes bulging from his grim face.

Stannis Baratheon, head of Human Resources and killer of all things fun, has arrived. Brienne spies Cleos Frey behind him, the little rat fink, and wonders how he found out since everyone’s been doing their best to keep it from him, too.

“Welcome, Stannis. The party’s just underway, so if you leave now, you won’t ruin—” Jaime says.

“I didn’t think it could possibly be true when Cleos told me that you…you’ve been holding this lewd contest to boost sales. I told myself that Tywin Lannister’s sons would never do anything to besmirch their family name.”

“Has he met us?” Tyrion asks Jaime.

“Much less ruin the reputation of Chataya’s Secret when word gets out!” Stannis stalks through the crowd.

“We’re a lingerie company. When word gets out, people will be beating down our doors begging us for lingerie if it can get them someone who looks like Jaime.” Tyrion puts a finger to his chin. “You know, we might still have work for you, brother. You could be a male model and frolic with our female models in next year’s ads.”

Jaime looks over at Brienne. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for me, Tyrion, but thanks for the offer.” To Stannis, he says, “Lighten up, Stanny. It was all in good fun.”

“Someone could use this in a sexual harassment claim!” When the crowd begins booing, Stannis raises his voice. “Why are you booing me? You know I’m right!”

“Is anyone here going to file a sexual harassment claim?” Tyrion asks. “Does anyone feel oppressed? Jaime?”

“I agreed to do this, so no,” he replies.

When no one else answers in the affirmative, Tyrion turns to Stannis. “I think that settles things. Now…well, Hildy, if you want to try and put that section back on so we can go again, and someone can start the music, and—”

Hildy presses the section back, but it isn’t quite right and a peek of the facsimile of Jaime’s cock appears beneath the section. The music starts up even louder than before, drowning out Stannis who is waylaid by one of the sales reps, Davos Seaworth from the Stormlands region. Brienne’s too far away and the music’s too loud to hear what Davos says to him, but whatever it is, some of the tension bleeds away.

Brienne looks back to Jaime, whose eyebrows are close to his hairline. He gives her a small “who knew?” shrug as Hildy makes a big show of peeling off the final section and everyone screams at seeing Jaime’s cutout completely naked.

The party begins in earnest. Jaime gets stuck in a group of people including Hildy, who inches closer to him whenever she thinks no one will notice. Jaime inches away from her in response. Before Brienne can get to the group, she’s stopped by Tyrion.

“Ms. Tarth,” Tyrion says. “Or should I say, Brienne. I should have singled you out for special praise, but Stannis crashed the mood, and I didn’t get the chance.”

“I, um, you didn’t have to—I mean, thank you, but…”

“You’re quite welcome. Chataya’s Secret is lucky to have you, and I hope we won’t be losing you anytime soon.”

Brienne tilts her head and looks at him curiously. “Why would I be leaving?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You might get a better offer from a little start-up gaming company and decide to leave.” Tyrion grins up at her. “Hey, wanted to ask you something. You were the last one at the office yesterday, weren’t you?”

Brienne wills herself not to blush. “Um, well, I had a few things to get done and…”

“Uh-huh. You wouldn’t happened to have seen someone going through my office, would you? It seemed like they were looking for something, but nothing was missing when I went through my stuff.” Tyrion pauses deliberately. “Well, nothing seriously important. A few items for personal protection were missing, along with a bottle of wine, but they’re easily replaced.”

“I’m glad you weren’t inconvenienced,” she says. “But I’m sure you feel unsettled since someone did that. I wish I’d seen something, but I was busy. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sure you were…tied up at the time.”

She will _not_ respond to that, but she’s sure her face is as red as a fire hydrant now. Tyrion leans in and says, “Seriously, though, if Jaime tries to poach you for his staff, let me know. I’ll double his offer and remind you that you guys narrowly dodged an HR mess here.”

“I did offer to resign,” she says weakly, because there’s no point in pretending that Tyrion doesn’t know everything. “Jaime said he wouldn’t hear of it.”

Tyrion smiles. “Good man, my brother.” And thankfully, Tyrion leaves her alone.

Brienne’s stomach growls so she heads for the food table, now heaping with finger foods, gods only know what in the punch bowl, and for those who are less adventurous, bottles of beer. She grabs a plate and fills it with snacks, earning a look that’s a cross between envious and contemptuous from Pia, one of the sales reps from the Riverlands, who asks, “How can you eat all that?”

Brienne gives her a close-lipped smile and says, “I work out a lot. Burns off the calories.”

She turns away from Pia and finds a few people from her department. The talk is banal and she can’t keep track of it because her eyes sweep the room for Jaime. She thinks she catches sight of him a couple of times, but it’s only that stupid cardboard cutout that Hildy’s dragging around with her. Brienne drifts away, heading for the nearest wall to watch the action.

Before she can get there, however, a voice murmurs in her ear, “How much longer before we can blow off this party and head to my car to fulfill one of my fantasies?”

Brienne manages to swallow, but it takes some effort. “This isn’t my party so I can’t answer that,” she says. “But it’s probably a little rude if you leave so soon.”

Jaime walks around to face her, a speculative look in his eyes. “Hmm. How about if we run out to my car, fulfill the fantasy, and come back?”

A wave of heat floods her and her knees go weak. “I…uh…”

“I promise there won’t be a gold condom in sight.”

“Jaime! Jaime, is what Tyrion said really true? You’re really leaving Chataya’s?” Hildy, seemingly out of nowhere, steps between them.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” Jaime replies, sounding disgruntled. Brienne realizes that Hildy is in the perfect position for Brienne to rid her of a handful or two of hair, and if she doesn’t stop trying to hit Brienne with the cutout, Brienne just might do it.

“But how can you leave now, when things are going so well?”

“Uh…”

“Hey, Hildy! Come here! I’ve got Bracken on the phone and he refuses to believe that you made top sales rep!” someone shouts across the room.

Hildy looks like she wants to whack the interloper with the cutout, but she’s had a long-standing feud with Bracken, and the desire to rub it in his face is stronger than her desire for Jaime. “I’ll be right back,” she says.

Jaime doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Brienne’s plate and bottle of beer, hands them to the closest person to them, and motions for her to follow him. She doesn’t hesitate, either.

Half an hour later, the windows in Jaime’s SUV are completely fogged and Brienne’s not sure if she knows whose legs are whose, they’re so tangled together on his back seat. Jaime stares down at her with those amazing green eyes of his as he brushes a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead.

“You looked like you were three seconds away from killing Hildy,” he says once he’s caught his breath.

“It was tempting,” she admits. “But I wouldn’t. I have no reason to be jealous. All she’s got is a cardboard cutout. I’ve got you.”

Brienne pulls his head down for a kiss, and that’s the last thing either of them says for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who were wondering, here's the music playing When Jaime brings the cardboard cutout to the last meeting: [Ravishing Rick Rude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JbyGA3CN0Dk)
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!!](https://writergirl2011.tumblr.com)


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